Autumn has taken a strong hold on the landscape here. Parsed by New England terms that means it's time to actively make room for living inside far more than most of us have in several months. Here on the hill where I live it's growing increasingly important to prioritize the goals for any given day with hours of available sunlight in mind. One priority for me is to spend time each day just standing still enough to breathe with the land. Outside, there, with-in the land Herself.
Another priority is to be able to see the land as clearly as possible when I'm not mingling with it. To that end I cleaned the enormous window at the front of my studio. I don't think I've done that since the second autumn we lived here. Usually I'm in too much of a rush to get the houseplants settled as close to the light as possible.
Every-one came in for good the night before last. Over our decade of Autumns here I've learned the plants can loiter in inadequate light for two days without losing their verve. For the most part I've had them clustered like overflow guests in the mudroom while I prepare their permanent homes by cleaning and smudging the space thoroughly:
A bit earlier today the last leg of the seasonal plant exodus officially began. Jim brought up the Turkish Fig and three of the biggest plants (two 36 year old asparagus ferns and an Alice DuPont Allamanda in her late 20's) that will spend their winter here. Usually this is a super stressful and personally awkward shift for me. Every single plant is always bigger than when I put every-one out in late May. And a good many of these are substantially larger than they seemed while they were flourishing outside.
Prior to the now of this day I have rarely prepared space to accommodate the high level of growth in a timely fashion. As a result I don't have a history of feeling joy to have such long-lived faithful allies so much as I let that be an implied side note to logistical overwhelm. Until this year, beginning with the last day of Summer, when I surprised myself with the snap decision to totally flip my usual script for this time of year.
My writing plan for this blog is to speak a lot more of that but right now it's only relevant to state the obvious: once I made one change of an authentically joyous nature - the next and then another followed without me actively thinking it through or building a plan. Eventually enough inner shifts occurred for me to return to disembodied yet ever so mindful Community.
I want to be part of the ongoing electrical conversation again. I also want to share images and stories of what I've learned, and continue to learn from the landscape and all she holds. To talk about Flower Essences and stones and how to remain grateful for, alert to and aligned with the parts of ourselves most rooted to our mother Gaia and all she holds.
If it turns out I also want to talk about things I make here in the studio then I'll revive some form of Nichobella. But for now let's stick to the most important commonality we all share: Earth & life Itself. Above is a picture of our little field on the night before we passed papers. Virtually nothing looks the same in the now and yet this image is an important place-maker to begin~here~again.